Insects
by Herr Fritz
Summary: Moriarty self-reflects on insects.  They have always been his interest growing up, now relates his stations in life to them.


**Disclaimer: How in the world did you know? It's true...I'm Arthur Conan Doyle reincarnate... **

** ...or not. Sadly, I do not own Sherlock. But still feel free to enjoy!**

I've always had a certain...fascination with insects. Even before I killed poor Carl Powers, I had spent my youth offing those creatures, but only after studying them with unnatural attention. I was always so intrigued by these clever, miniscule creatures, and I've carried that interest into my role as a criminal.

Insects have instinct, self-preservation, hierarchies, and devious adaptations. They sting, bite, kill, and devour.

I suppose it's no surprise I find myself comparing my actions to those of my favorite insects.

Looking back, the first insect I could identify with is the hornet. It was simple enough to be compared to my early demeanor. So small and so often overlooked, no one ever suspected it was me who ended Carl's life. My venom went unnoticed. I slipped my stinger into his skin and injected him with a fatal dose of hatred. My poison festered, then did its work. Poor, dead Carl. No one ever suspects a little hornet. My poison was deadly, and it had just begun to flow.

As I grew up, I could best describe my young adult years as my caterpillar period. I was just discovering who I was- my genius was as young and vulnerable as a larvae. It was only as I learned about the workings of the world and the dull minds that ran it that I found it best to harden. I forced my heart into chrysalis, and by the time it emerged out, I was fully complete. My brain's power and the beauty of possibility had unfurled with all the glory of a butterfly's wings.

The world is full of ants, and I knew as I entered the adult world that I would not be another mundane, mindless drone. No, I raised myself far above those laborers, far above those common folk, and I have become a leader. I _order_ the drones- those boring, dull, predictable, _malleable_ ants. I lead my criminal network, and my workers fulfill what needs to be done. The queen doesn't want to get his hands dirty, does he?

When it comes to spiders, I've always had a hard time choosing my favorite. Perhaps in my current circumstances, it's the Black Widow. We are both distinctive, killing in a idiosyncratic manner. My mark is an 'M', not an hourglass, but still a trademark that is far more fitting in representing suffering. Death is an inevitable outcome after a confrontation with either a spider or I. At least with a Black Widow your death is quick.

The other feature I most admire is the spider's creation of its intricate web. I weave my own web for Sherlock, perfectly sired with trickery, danger, deceit, and the knowledge I'm always one step ahead of him.

And Sherlock and I... in our madness we call this web a game.

Ironically, one of my least favorite bugs became my favorite disguise in my game with Sherlock. Just as the ladybug is often overlooked, I did a little playacting to be equally forgettable. All that product, staying up late, abandoning my Westwood, and donning the uncomfortable jockeys were worth it to hear Sherlock come to an incorrect conclusion of "gay!". I guess this means all insects have redeeming qualities. The passivity of the ladybug certainly puts an interesting twist in the battle between my detective and I.

Mites have always been one of the most disgusting insects to me, though now I can see the allure and exquisiteness that they entail in their habits. What other insect can burrow its way past skin deep? They are the true dangers in the insect world. They infect their victims and fester in their burrow. That's what I want to do to Sherlock. I'll be a mite, and he'll be my host. I'll bite into that pale skin of his, and burrow down to his core. I'll tunnel into his chest, into his heart, where I'll sit and bide my time. I'll corrode his heart, turn the insides into decay, and eat away at it. I'll burrow myself deep into Sherlock's heart. Then...

I'll become a firebug, and I'll burn him. I'll burn his heart from the inside out.

**Thanks for taking the time to read! I'm pretty new to fanfictions, so I appreciate constructive criticism. I also am trying to come up with good prompts for a story about Mycroft Holmes, so if anyone has any ideas, feel free to let me know. I'm amazed by the creativity of the writers on this site!**


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